Mr Grumble and Miss Sunshine
by Mindy35
Summary: Elliot/Olivia. Post-ep for "Contagious". Elliot and Olivia exchange birthday presents.


Title: Mr Grumble and Miss Sunshine

Author: mindy35

Rating: K+, nothing naughty

Disclaimer: Not mine

Spoilers: Not really

Pairing: Elliot/Olivia

Summary: Post-ep for "Contagious" (picks up shortly after Olivia organises for Elliot's kids to visit him on his birthday then does its own thing). Elliot and Olivia exchange birthday presents.

A/N: Just cos it's short, doesn't mean you shouldn't review.

* * *

She was carrying a load of files to her desk when her partner came back through the squadroom door in a hurry. "Hey. Forget something?"

He turned at the sound of her voice, eyes finding and fixing on her. "Yeah. You." He stalked toward her, took the files from her hands and dumped them on her desk. "Grab your coat."

Olivia blinked at him, feet rooted to the spot. "Where we goin'?"

"Dunno." Elliot shrugged then headed to the alcove where her coat hung, pulling it from the hanger. "Kids have organized dinner somewhere."

Her mouth opened on a protest. "El—"

But her partner interrupted before she could voice it. "And _don't_ say you have plans tonight because we both know you're just gonna sit here doing paperwork and you'll probably end up ordering Chinese from that place that gave Munch food poisoning."

"I—"

"And don't say you don't want to intrude on my time with the kids because my kids adore you and you know it." He slung her coat over his arm and headed back to her. "Trust me, they're way more excited about having dinner with you than with their boring old dad."

Her head began to shake. "That's not—"

"And anyway," Elliot held her coat up by the collar, a smug smirk playing about his lips, "it's my birthday so you're not allowed to refuse."

Olivia shot him a wry look but turned her back, slipping one then the other arm into her coat. "Anything else I'm not allowed to do?"

"Yeah," he mused, voice lowering as he fitted the coat to her shoulders, "don't do that thing you do where you stand two paces behind everyone else."

She faced him slowly, eyes skittish and voice hesitant. "I'm not good at family stuff, Elliot, I'm not used it. I…don't know…how to…"

"Well," he reached out, squeezing her elbow through the thick material, "you've gotta start sometime, right? Practice makes perfect." He tipped his head at the door then promptly headed for it, waving at her to follow. "Come on. The kids are waiting."

"Hang on a sec—" she muttered, rolling her eyes at her undeterable partner. She leaned down to open a drawer, pulling out a small box wrapped in plain brown paper. "I got you…a little something."

Elliot shuffled on the spot, brows crumpling. "You got me something?"

"A_ little_ something," she clarified, moving to him and handing him the gift.

He took it and looked at it. "…What is it?"

She lifted a shoulder, gave a half-smile. "You won't know til you open it."

Elliot inspected the small box another moment then took to its wrapper with his fingers. As he did, Olivia retrieved her purse and keys from her desk. When she turned back, he was pulling a white Mr Men mug from the packaging. The character on it had a little blue hat and a scowl on his face. Above the plump purple figure was his name, printed in large black capitals – _MR GRUMBLE_.

Elliot looked up at her, mug in hand.

Olivia resisted a grin. "Reminded me of you. Can't imagine why."

He snorted. "Thanks." And leaned in to kiss her cheek. There was slightly awkward pause before he ran his eyes over her and asked, "Ready?"

She gave a nod, watched him position the new mug on his desktop and drop the wrapping in the wastepaper basket. Then they headed out the door and down the well-trodden corridor. Arriving at the elevator, Elliot pushed the button and broke the silence.

"This place they're taking us better not be vegetarian."

His partner patted his shoulder, murmuring, "Getting to be quite the grump in our old age, aren't we?"

"Hey. Be nice." Elliot scowled at her as the doors parted and he boarded the empty compartment. "It's my special day."

Olivia laughed and followed him on, pressing the button for the ground floor.

-x-

Olivia was asleep when the clock struck midnight on the morning of her birthday. Her thirty minutes of downtime would soon be up though so Elliot retrieved the box from the bottom of his desk and opened it. The little gift had actually been surprisingly difficult to track down. But then he didn't have 'Detective' in front of his name for nothing. He'd finally got his hands on the one he wanted the day before. Their insane case load meant he hadn't had time to wrap the thing or write a card but that was probably just as well. He wouldn't know what to write to his partner anyway.

They rarely exchanged gifts and even more rarely expressed any overt sentiment toward each other. Her birthday in particular was generally off-limits due to its sensitivity. Six of them had passed since he'd known her and not one had been marked by any sense of celebration. Olivia had never actually said anything directly to him about it. It was more something he'd gleaned from the snippets of her past she occasionally shared. Before her mother told her of her origin, her birthday had been a strained and lonely occasion. Afterwards, celebration seemed tainted and next to impossible. For his part, he could never say that he was grateful that a violent rape occurred. But neither could Elliot entirely regret the event that produced Olivia Benson. She was a special woman, a remarkable woman, an absolutely vital woman – to many more than just him. She made the world better, brighter, just by being in it. And though a playful present probably didn't communicate that, he figured it was better than nothing.

It was after she'd broken their celebration stalemate earlier that year – buying him a gift and recruiting his children and subsequently joining them for dinner at his favorite Italian restaurant – that he'd started considering doing the same. He was usually no good at remembering birthdays or choosing gifts. But this time, he was determined to be prepared. He'd picked a present he knew she'd appreciate and located it in time, slipping out to pick it up on his ten-minute lunch hour. And though there was no wrapping or message accompanying it, he had managed to source a pastry from her favorite patisserie and brew a fresh pot of coffee. So that when his partner emerged from the crib, straightening her clothes and tossing mussed hair out of tired eyes, for once in his life, Elliot was birthday-ready.

"Mornin' Sunshine," he greeted, placing the mug of coffee and golden brown pastry on her desktop.

Olivia plonked down in her chair, swallowing a yawn and running both hands over her drawn face. "What're you so cheery about?"

"Gotcha something."

Her hands dropped away from her eyes, which then fell onto his birthday offering. A slow, shy smile crept across her lips, reaching up to her eyes as she lifted the mug and inspected the character printed on the white porcelain. The fat little figure was bright yellow with pigtails and freckles and a big smile. Above her was the title _LITTLE MISS SUNSHINE_ in the same large black type as the mug he'd been using ever since his birthday.

Elliot left her side, returning to his desk and taking a seat. "Happy birthday." He lifted his Mr Grumble mug and extended it across their equally chaotic desktops. "Here's to you—"

Still smiling, Olivia clunked her new mug against his then put it to her lips.

His eyes scanned her in the dim lamplight, her rumpled clothes and bloodshot eyes and bedhead. "You don't look a day over forty-five."

She spluttered into her first sip. "Son of a—!"

He chuckled and took a hot hit of caffeine.

"_Be nice_," she muttered, tearing the pastry in half and handing him one portion.

"I know. I will. After all…" he took a large bite, adding with his mouth full of dough, "it's your special day."

Her answering smile was interrupted by the trill of a phone. Olivia picked it up, all traces of her smile vanishing as she delivered her name into the receiver with perfunctory professionalism. Moments later, their miniature celebration of the special day she arrived on earth was cut short, matching mugs abandoned as they rushed out the squadroom door. In the years that would follow though, neither of their birthdays – and especially not hers – would ever again pass without some, if small, acknowledgement.

_END._


End file.
